


Elizabeth is dead

by beatleing



Category: Poldark (TV 2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 21:26:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15591054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beatleing/pseuds/beatleing
Summary: What happened when Ross left Trenwith after the fateful event of the last episode... Spoilers if you didn't watch the episode 4x08.





	Elizabeth is dead

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Elizabeth está muerta.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15510867) by [beatleing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beatleing/pseuds/beatleing). 



> I couldn't help it. I wrote this in one day, on the way to and back from work the Monday after the last episode of Season 4. So many things remained to be said and my little head cannot do more than complete those moments, starting with Ross and how he took the news of Elizabeth's death.
> 
> This go 'unbeta'd' so sorry in advance for the grammar mistakes.

_'Elizabeth? Elizabeth is dead... '_

George's words were the only thing that was heard in Ross's mind. The night that surrounded him was silent, the sea crashing against the rocks not far below his feet but he did not hear it.

Ross had wandered aimlessly along the cliffs that lined the coast of Cornwall for hours, leading Darkie by the reins held in one hand, or was it Darkie carrying him? From time to time Ross would stop to look at the barely distinguishable and distant horizon over the sea, the December’s cold hitting hard on his face but he did not feel it. Elizabeth was dead.

In the darkness, he stumbled with a ledge on the rocky ground pulling the horse hard to avoid falling and Darkie neighed and moved restless, unaccustomed to be treated so abruptly and to walk until so late at night. He approached his faithful horse and began to gently stroke his head, the movement calming the animal and the familiar contact soothing them both. Ross dried his tears with the sleeve of his overcoat. He didn’t know at what point he had started crying.

The image of Elizabeth cold and dead appeared before him. His lifeless body lying motionless in the same bed where he had taken her six years earlier was something he would never forget. He had seen her a few hours before, he’d seen her no more than two days ago. What was the last thing he had said to her? … _'Forgive me'_

'Yes Elizabeth, forgive me for all the ill I caused you. All the suffering, all the discord... '

_‘I do.’_

Elizabeth's voice echoed in his ears as if brought by the wind. Ross remembered the last thing they had said to each other but could not put a face to her words. It was the dead Elizabeth who spoke to him, the pale, stiff body of someone who had once been the love of his life. He could not stand it.

Ross approached the edge of the cliff leaving Darkie loose, he knew she wouldn’t leave without him. He needed to breathe, needed air to fill his lungs. Thus he remained a long time. He knew he had to try again, that he had to remember Elizabeth's patrician face as she was when she spoke those last words, but for now, he dared not. Instead, his capricious mind wandered to George. His face, transfigured by suffering and anger, George he remembered clearly. His screams, as he had almost forced him to go up to his wife's bedroom to see her, as if it were the worst harm he could do to him. And perhaps it was. But the pain was shared. The desolation that causes such a great loss extends without anyone being able to control it. Geoffrey Charles, Valentine and the little newborn, all would be victims of this tragedy. Elizabeth was so young, so beautiful. Elizabeth surrounded by young men who admired her embellished, but she only had eyes for him. She had saved him, it was her who had brought him back home and now all that beauty, all her youth, all her gentleness, and kindness was rotting on a bed into what had once been the home of the Poldarks.

When leaving Trenwith Ross had vomited behind the jasmines that George had planted against the fence near the threshold when he took possession of the house. ‘I wish you’d loved him’, Ross thought. ‘I hope you have gone of this world holding the hand of a loved one...’

For all Ross knew about what George was capable of, he also knew how much he had wanted her. Since they were hardly more than children. And what on that damned day had seemed crazy was not because Ross doubted that George really loved her, although he suspected that one of the reasons to marry her so soon was to strike another blow to him, deep down the reason that he had gone mad was the fact that she could love a man like George. His worst enemy. The man who had tried again and again to bankrupt him, who had tried to make him hanged, a man who had no pity or a hint of kindness in his person. But now Ross begged for Elizabeth to have loved him. For she would have had some happiness in her life. Unable to get on the horse, Ross had left Trenwith on foot.

The temperature dropped further as dawn approached. Little by little Ross resumed walking, Darkie still following close behind. At times closing his eyes, the darkness was so great that there was not much difference in walking with his eyes open. It had been almost twenty years since Ross had left to fight in the American war, when everything he thought he had upon his return was shattered. And now? He thought about George again. In George that had everything and in an instant fate had come to collect his debts and had taken away his most precious treasure. Elizabeth is dead. She had died after giving birth to a little girl. Ross found himself standing in front of the bed where Elizabeth had given life as an ironic last act before dying. Elizabeth seemed asleep under the sheets that hid the death that was already eating away her body. Ross came over to say goodbye, without looking at her he brushed her cold lips and walked away slowly, only when he was back by the foot of the bed did he look up, but he was no longer in Trenwith. He was in Nampara. And it was not Elizabeth who was dead on the bed but Demelza.

The legs failed him. Ross had to lean against the wall of a large family of rocks that loomed over the ground to avoid falling. He felt his heart beat frantically in his ears, a heat invading his chest, reaching his head and numbing his body.

He tried to shake off the image of his mind but it was impossible. All he could imagine now was Demelza pale and motionless on the bed in Nampara's master bedroom. Because if Elizabeth had gone like this, in a moment, could not the same thing happen to Demelza?

If Ross had been able to think clearly at that moment, he might have found several reasons to help him cope with that grim thought. Reasons that he had said to himself and he had said to anyone who was willing to listen to him again and again. Demelza is strong. Demelza is a fighter. She is the daughter of a miner and knows the sorrows of life and confronts them with her head held high, her sleeves rolled up and a smile on her face. Demelza had given birth three times and never had any complications. Demelza had come back from the disease when many had died. Demelza was a survivor. But that night Ross was being chased by unknown demons. And Ross saw Demelza running away from him. That day after making love to her for the first time. He remembered her delirious with fever, asking about her daughter who was already dead and he did not know what would be worst if she died or she woke up and he had to tell her that Julia had left them. But Ross was selfish, only he knew he had always been selfish, and no matter how much pain Demelza would suffer, he wanted her to wake up because he didn’t want to be alone...

And then, then they almost sent him to the gallows for a night of madness and his wife, in mourning and pregnant, suffered with him the whims of the justice of men. Ross also remembered the moment he saw the suitcases packed and ready to go with his wife and son. Why had not he begged for forgiveness then? What was different now? Hugh. The night answered. What was different now is that he was not the only man Demelza had loved. Blinded by pride, Ross always believed that Demelza would love him despite all his faults, despite everything he could do. He always believed that it was enough for him to tell her that he loved her, that it was enough with what they had. He always believed that Demelza would love him and only him. But that absolute truth had been shattered the day Hugh Armitage appeared in their lives. In one of his many carelessness, another man had usurped his place, another man had had what until then had only been his and suddenly as he had arrived Hugh had left, and had not given him the time to react. And that's why he had killed the first man who had dared to look at his wife when they went to London. And he knew he was capable of doing the same thing again if the situation repeated itself. Jealousy, a wave of jealousy had made him endanger his life and the life of his entire family.

Still leaning on the rock Ross contemplated the sea. A golden line already shone on the horizon, it would soon be daytime. Only in that instant did Ross realize what had happened to him in all this time. He was afraid. Afraid of losing Demelza. Afraid that someone would snatch her from his life and never see her again. To not feel the warmth of her body in the mornings or her hand on his chest after making love. Fear of not seeing her plaiting her hair at night, nor watching her play on the beach with the children. Afraid to not taste her meals after a day of work, or not to see her with her sewing next to the fire while he worked on the papers of the mine. Afraid to lose her advice and guidance. But what frightened him the most was the idea of not hearing her voice again. To not listen to her calling his name, 'Ross'. Or not to hear her sing to their children or when she was in the kitchen. To not listen to her say good morning when he woke up.

Ross saw Demelza on her deathbed. And that was a certainty. That day would come sooner or later. Giving birth, like Elizabeth. He knew that Demelza wanted to have more children... In an accident while riding, this place was full of precipices, for God's sake! She could catch a disease while attending to the people in the village. Or death would come in many years, when they both had white hair and the house will be invaded by grandchildren. Now or then, Ross knew he could not endure it. Nor the pain it would cause Demelza if it was he the one who left first. He knew it well, he had seen it on her face that morning when he had arrived bleeding from the duel with Adderley. There was not way out. Elizabeth had already fallen into the nets of death, not all of George's power and money could have saved her.

Ross stood up and walked to the edge of the cliff. He listened to Darkie graze nearby and the sound of the waves breaking beneath her feet. Twenty years earlier, he and Elizabeth had gone there to say goodbye before he left for war. He remembered that she smiled and jumped happily from one place to another and had not let him catch her. And he had never done it. Suddenly he could remember her face, her happy young face that had not changed with the passage of time. Whether she had changed or not, he did not know. He only knew that the life they dreamed of back then had been lost, and if he had the chance to return to that moment and live his life again, he would change nothing. He would still go to war, he would still return to the ruins of his home, but above all he would be anxious to return to that fair in Redruth to find Demelza again.

Elizabeth was leaping on the cliffs, the sun was already shining in the sky. He felt Demelza before he saw her and looked at her, cautiously approaching him and he went to meet her. When he was in front of her, he let her leave in peace.

_'Elizabeth is dead.'_

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading.


End file.
